Good People
by Sisimka
Summary: Leliana and Andrew have met before, in Denerim. There the bard helped the young man sort his thoughts and they became friends. This time they meet in Highever and Leliana needs a friendly ear as much as Andy does.  Warden's Vigil/DA Fiction
1. One

__

A/N: For those of you waiting on my next chapter of Interludes, it's coming! I have a Luke chapter written and plan to post it on Monday. I've got my fingers crossed for three chapters being posted next week. In the meantime, this is another little project I've been working on.

Good People is a sequel to my story A Thoughtful Young Man and features two of the characters I play on the role playing community, Warden's Vigil. In the first story Andy was in Denerim and out of his element (when is he not?) and ran into Leliana at the Royal Palace. She sings to him, listens to him talk and they form a tentative little friendship. In this story they meet again, by chance, on the beach in Highever. Both of them are weighed down by heavy thoughts this time and looking for a quiet place to think things through.

_It's really interesting to see what your characters think of one another and I think that's one of the things I really enjoy about writing Andy and Leli together. _

_I decided to post this here on as well as on the boards for two reasons. One, it is a sequel, and two, the story provides a basic background of the lives of both of my characters and an introduction to the plots they are both involved in, which I hope will demonstrate for those interested in both role playing and writing, what fun we are having over there. A link to the site is available on my profile page._

_

* * *

_

When the sergeant handed him the package, Andy simply stared at it for a few moments, taking in the loose brown paper wrapping, the string and the familiar handwriting scrawled in one corner. A throat cleared to the side of him and a gruff voice sounded behind him, "Move along mate, you're not the only who got mail, eh?"

Blinking, he stepped aside and followed his feet to the barracks. He sat on his bunk, the lower one, which he didn't particularly like, and stared at his parcel. Pat's handwriting addressed it to: Guardsman Banvard, Highever. A simple salutation and one that Andy had tried to use for himself, but kept failing. Just as he'd not been able to picture himself as Ser Andrew, he had a hard time calling himself Guardsman Banvard. But lately he'd wondered if even the simple version of his name, the less formal Andy, suited him either. He didn't feel like the young and carefree Andy anymore.

He sat with the package in his lap for a long time, almost afraid to open it. He had a gut ache again, much like the one he'd had the day before. Though yesterday's had been due to the obscene breakfast he'd eaten, this one had to do with the bundled paper in his lap, the reminder of the family that had been on his mind the day before as he'd told Ser Rhiannon in no uncertain terms that she was not a part of it. Maker, he couldn't remember ever saying something so rude or uncaring to another person. Particularly not someone who had gone out of their way to be so nice.

All in all, it had been a crap few days. Thankfully he couldn't blame himself for most of it; the funeral yesterday had not been his fault. He'd still avoided it though, uncomfortable with the press of people, the public outpouring of sadness and the reminder of all the awful things that had happened since he'd come to Highever. Breakfast yesterday had been his fault, sort of. Waking up with a knight he'd been avoiding standing over his bed had not been the best way to start his day. But still, he'd been rude. And he'd not seen Aerion since the match with the Warden, his friendship with Linette had exploded unpleasantly and he'd made a deal with an assassin. All in all, it had been a crap few days.

Looking down at the parcel, he touched the letters and then plucked at the string, unraveling it, pulling it away. Inside the paper he found a shirt, a pair of pants and two new pairs of socks. He didn't need to examine the seams and stitching to recognise his mother's handiwork, but he did it anyway and felt a lump form in his throat as he imagined her nimble fingers pulling the stitches tight, her hands smoothing the blue material of the shirt out across her lap. Periwinkle blue, the colour of your eyes, or so his mother insisted every time she gave him a shirt this colour. The pants resembled the ones he wore now, simple linen pants, serviceable, plain, just as he liked them. The socks had his initials embroidered on the cuffs. Andy sighed as he realised he smiled at them.

A letter lay tucked within the fold of the pants and it slipped into his hands as put the new clothes into his trunk. Andy unfolded it and read: Dear Andy, We miss you…

The lump in his throat became painful and Andy swallowed and then hastily folded the letter over once again as the door to the barracks opened and a pair of guards wandered in – the stinker and the snorer. They nodded to the figure crouched in front of the trunk and walked to the tables and chairs at the end of the room, talking quietly. Standing, Andy tucked the letter into his pocket and stepped to the door, through it, out into the hall, and then into the yard. He followed the path to the castle gates and walked into town.

* * *

Leliana quite liked Highever, but it did not call to her in the way she hoped someplace one day would. The bard still held out hope that one day she would arrive somewhere and instantly know it as her place, her home. She had traveled for so long and while there was still much of Thedas left to see, secretly she hoped one day for a home, perhaps in a town like this. She could be a minstrel here, a simple songstress and story teller. She could pass her stories on to children and teach music to those interested. She could spend her idle hours hunting with her bow or even teach that skill as well. Leliana enjoyed passing on what knowledge she had.

Living within Highever were some agreeable people, men and women she would like to count as friends. But perhaps the proximity to the sea would prove her undoing. She would wander the docks and look at the ships and wonder where they had come from and where they were going. Of course, she had looked to the distant Frostbacks from Lothering and had the same thoughts. She seemed to ever live at the horizon and probably every place had a distant feature that would draw her wandering eye.

Highever should have been a place of respite, a holiday of sorts from her current purpose. In some ways, it had been. But the events of yesterday had her doubting everything: her companions, her mission, her resolve.

When her life became chaotic, Leliana missed the chantry in Lothering and the quiet sisters whose lives were filled with such a peaceful purpose, whose ears had never heard tales of the sort she could tell. Whose innocence and purity she had never had, not really. Sometimes she wondered if she'd sought just that for herself. Of course, she'd not found it, not properly. Since her experience at the Urn of Sacred Ashes, Leliana's view of the Chantry had changed once more. She still retained her faith, she still preferred her version of it, but she kept it to herself now and sought less comfort from the established Chantry than before. She looked for the Maker in other places instead, peaceful places, beautiful places, unusual places, and sometimes, forgotten places. It seemed more fitting to find the presence of a being that had turned his back on the world in a place men had also turned away from.

This particular evening she sought one of those places, a forgotten nook where she could cast aside her masks for a while and simply be not herself, though she was always herself, in one way or another. Not be a minstrel or a bard, an adventurer or a hero. Be just a woman, quiet and somewhat lonely. She had told Jenna that she intended to play at the inn and she would, later, when she felt centered once more.

Her wanderings led her along the shore to a cove some distance from the docks and the town itself. As she climbed around the rocks spilled down from the cliff, a promontory of tumbled stone reaching out into the water, she noted that as the tide continued to rise, she would be cut off from the rest of the beach. A quick glance at the small cove showed it deep enough to provide respite from both the wind and the rising sea. A forgotten place? Leliana clambered down the other side of the informal wall, glad she had worn her leathers and boots instead of a dress as the wind tugged relentlessly at her.

Making her way up the slope of sand, she moved into the shadow of the cliffs towering above and settled down into a cross legged position, hands resting gently on her knees. With a soft sigh, she let her face fall into repose, her muscles ease, and parts of herself drop away entirely until only the essential Leliana remained. A woman, nearly twenty nine years of age, feeling at times older, at other times younger. A lost soul, but for her current purpose and the hunters at her back. A hardened heart she wished would soften. A complicated person she yearned to simplify. A head full of memories and thoughts she wished she could leave behind.

Leliana did not often shed tears. She had learned they did little for her. Tears had met only admonishments from Lady Cecilie, her eyes would puff and become red rimmed, unattractive. After the first occasion, she had never dared let Marjolaine catch her cry. Sunny smiles and obedient words were what her former mentor had looked for and she, naïve fool she had been, gave them. Tears had not saved her from torture, they had only goaded her captors, guided their hands. Crying for herself, on a bare dungeon floor had accomplished nothing but the bruising of her heart. Still she had wept, on her journey from the Dales, into her thin pillow at the chantry in Lothering, until one day she had stopped.

For the most part, she had been too overwhelmed by events during the Blight to stop and cry. Some things had been too awful; others had not easily fit within her thoughts, too big to contemplate. In fact, the first tears she had shed in three years had been recently, in Denerim, when Aedan had told her his Grey Warden secrets.

So why were her cheeks wet now? Touching her fingers to them, she almost wondered if the spray of the ocean had fooled her. Then her breath caught, her shoulders hitched and more tears welled in her eyes, obscuring her view of the ocean. Drawing her knees upwards, she hugged them to herself and hummed softly beneath her sadness, a tune from long, long ago.


	2. Two

When Andy noticed sand beneath his boots instead of cobbles, gravel or grass, he looked up and blinked in quiet astonishment. The ocean stretched out before him in its usual endless swell and clouds rested on the horizon. He'd walked to the beach without even knowing he planned to walk to the beach. He'd not actually had a plan, other than to walk, but obviously his boots had known better. Shoving his hands a little deeper into his pockets he turned and looked along the beach towards the rocks. As usual he saw no one.

Andy didn't quite understand why the beach remained so quiet. He thought it the most interesting place in Highever. But maybe if he'd seen it every day for nineteen years he'd not find it so fascinating? Then again, he'd seen the lake every day for nineteen years and he still considered it his favourite place in Edgewater. Letting out a breath, Andy kicked his boots through the sand and made his way towards the distant rock fall that seemed to mark the end of the beach. A deep cove curved into the cliffs on the other side and in the few weeks he'd been in Highever it had become his 'place'. Thus far he'd only visited it when he wanted to brood, but he liked having a quiet place to think. Having grown up in the barracks, he'd come to appreciate places like private coves and secret caves. Everyone needed some place to go and just be by themselves.

As he clambered over to the other side of the jut of tumbled rock that hid the cove Andy stopped short. There on the beach sat a woman, dressed in leathers. She had her legs drawn up, arms wrapped about them, and her chin resting on her knees. That's how he liked to sit, here, in this cove, his cove. The colour of her hair had him catching his breath, the fiery red. Like Bit's hair, but not. Then he remembered. He knew this woman - he had seen her before, at the Royal Palace in Denerim. The minstrel, Leliana.

She glanced over just then and saw him and Andy sucked his lower lip between his teeth and half turned, preparing to climb back around the rocks to the main beach. It seemed to him that if someone had walked along until they found this cove, they wanted it to themselves.

"Andrew?"

She had remembered his name! Andy felt a flush heat his cheeks, a mixture of pleasure that she remembered him and embarrassment that he'd interrupted her introspection. It would be rude to walk away without acknowledging her, so he dropped down and walked a little closer so that he wouldn't have to yell over the sound of the ocean. "Ah, hello, Leliana."

A wide smile crossed her face. "You remembered me!"

Andy blushed and grinned. "Well of course I did. It's not every day I meet a minstrel at the Royal Palace. I, er, I'm somewhat of a country boy if you'll remember."

"I do." Leliana patted the sand next to her. "Do you have time to sit with a friend?"

Friend? Andy ducked his head and scratched at his jaw. "Oh, well, I don't want to disturb you."

"You are not."

He dropped to the sand a short distance from her and Leliana tilted her head. "I do not bite, Andrew, you can sit closer. Then I will not have to shout over the sound of the sea."

Shuffling over, Andy moved as close as he dared, enough distance between them that someone else could sit there, but close enough that neither would have to raise their voice to be heard.

Despite her encouragement to sit closer, the minstrel did not immediately talk again and Andy pulled his knees, up, wrapped his arms about them, rested his chin and let his gaze wander out to sea. A comfortable quiet blossomed about them, punctuated by the sounds of the ocean and the occasional gull wheeling overhead. It didn't bother him that she did not speak; she'd only invited him to sit, right? And to his surprise, Andy found her company restful. Her purpose seemed the same as his, just to be _here_ and not _there_, away for a while.

* * *

Leliana marveled at the young man's ability to sit peacefully. She'd been apprehensive about inviting him forward from the rock fall, but it occurred to her that anyone who might venture this far along the beach probably knew this cove existed and sought to use it for the very same purpose as she. It did and did not surprise her to discover the identity of her visitor. If anyone needed a quiet place to think, it would be a thoughtful young man like Andrew. That she had run across him here, in Highever, did cause her to wonder. Quickly, she made connections. Lady Jennavieve Kincade of Edgewater, the Bann's sister, currently stayed at the castle. It was easy to assume the young squire accompanied her as an escort. Or perhaps he was a young knight now?

Realising he had in his own way distracted her from her purpose, Leliana smiled. She did not mind, not really. Her purpose had been tears, apparently, and she knew they would not help solve her problems. The light breeze had dried her cheeks and the presence of the uncomplicated young man offered its own sort of balm. Had that not been what she looked for? A simpler aspect? Her traveling companions were all such complex men. Zevran had as many secrets as she and Diago had his untold stories. And Jeremie? Jeremie was Orlesian. Orlesians were born complicated.

She let the silence sit between them aware he might have come here for that, grateful to him for sharing his private cove with her, even unwittingly. After a while, her own thoughts began to drift once more and though the bard never forgot the presence of the other, she found it easy to resume what she had begun, the stripping away of her layers, her masks. She let everything fall away and simply became Leliana, a woman full of optimism despite the shadows within. Her smile remained, _and why not? I am on a beach with a friend_. But her face relaxed, her sunny aspect unnecessary, her ever wary gaze unneeded.

After some time she became aware of his attention. Turning her head she saw him looking at her, a question in his blue eyes.

"It is strange, is it not, that we might meet again here, at the end of a beach? Do you think next time we meet it might be in Antiva?"

His mouth spread into an instant smile and he laughed. "I was thinking the same thing! But not Antiva." Catching the corner of his lower lip for a moment, he seemed to consider, then decide upon his next words. "I had roamed further," he admitted somewhat shyly. "I had thought the Anderfels."

Leliana giggled. "Why not? Shall we set a time, or let fortune decide for us?"

He answered immediately. "Oh, fortune, definitely."

And if she had not already decided she liked this young man, that answer alone would have decided her.

It seemed a shame to ask a sensible question after that exchange, almost as if she might break a spell. But Leliana had learned early in life that nothing lasted forever and that frivolous talk rarely served in place of real conversation. Andrew had come to this cove today looking for peace and solitude. He had found her instead. Perhaps she could offer a different solution to his worries. How did she know he had worries? Thoughtful young men always did.

"What brings you to Highever, Andrew?"


	3. Three

Before replying, Andy mused over her use of his more formal name. He had introduced himself as Andrew at the palace because it seemed the right thing to do. Sometimes he introduced himself as Andy, then remembered that Andrew sounded more proper, more adult. Then it was too late to change his mind, because doing so just made him sound even younger and more ridiculous. Perhaps if he applied the name Andrew to himself it might fit better now? Less like something only his mother used? More grown up than Andy and less formal than Guardsman Banvard? He'd have to think on it. For now, he had a question to answer.

"Ah, well I came to work for the guard. Teyrn Fergus is trying to rebuild Highever, um, after the Blight and civil war and… I'm not sure if you know the story of what happened here a couple years ago? To the Couslands?"

The minstrel nodded soberly. "I do. It is the Couslands I am visiting. Fate has not been kind to them lately."

Well… Andy's thoughts ground to a halt. She knew them. Of course she did. She'd been staying at the palace, right? Leliana was obviously no ordinary minstrel, she was a person of talent; he'd seen that for himself. She played for nobles and counted them as friends! That would be an interesting life, Andy decided. When he looked up from his study of the sand, Leliana seemed to be regarding him with concern. Andy realised he'd not commented. "Oh…"

"Were you here when the assassination attempt occurred?" she asked.

Andy nodded. "Yes. I saw… ah, well, as a guard I have been involved in much of it. I arrived in the Teyrn's study with the healer; it must have been minutes after it had happened." He didn't elaborate on all the other duties he had performed since: telling his fellow guardsman, Ferren, a child had been killed in order to coerce someone into attempting to kill the Teryn. Ferren had planned to adopt that child. Tracking Kali, the elf coerced into attempting to kill the Teyrn, to the hideout of the rogue who had killed the child. The ensuing battle, the arrow in his arm. He resisted the urge to rub at his new scar. Had he not lived though the last week, he'd have said it sounded like a tale. But then, he'd said that about his journey to Denerim, right? Perhaps Edgewater really did exist in a bubble, rarely touched by the rest of Ferelden.

"You are still a thoughtful young man, I see."

Glancing over at Leliana, Andy assumed his polite face. "Sorry, um, yes. Sort of? I, er, I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell people about what happened."

"I understand. We will talk about something else." Something in her tone suggested they would be moving on regardless of whether Andy wanted to continue discussing the recent strife or not and he smiled. "Tell me of your recent adventures, I can tell you have had some." She held up a hand. "Pretend you have come to your private thinking place…" she favoured him with a look that let him know she knew he'd been here before, to this cove, to do just that, "…only this time, there is someone willing to listen."

Andy considered her a moment and remembered the conversation they had had in Denerim. He'd told her the most awful things that had ever happened to him and she had not only listened, but had advised him, as a friend might. There had been no judgment in her words, no unnecessary sympathy, only understanding. In the absence of Pat, Andy had had no one to really talk to in some time and Leliana had served in place of his older brother then, maybe she could now?

"I really miss my brother, Pat," he began.

* * *

Leliana watched the young man as he looked at her, she could see him thinking, and kept her expression carefully neutral.

After mentioning his brother, Andrew looked out over the waves for a while, then one hand slipped into his pocket and he brought out a letter. "This is from him," he said quietly. "I came here to read it."

Leliana had so many questions then, but she asked none. Why was he here instead of Edgewater? Why did he work for the guard when he should be a knight? Why did he look sad and lonely; even sadder and lonelier than the young man she had come across in Denerim? What had robbed that spark of hope from his eyes and taken his dreams away?

Holding the letter out and gesturing with it, he continued. "He is the one I used to talk to about everything, right? But all the stuff I need to tell him now, he just wouldn't understand. He's too far away and he can't see it. He doesn't know these people and I don't think he'd know me anymore."

Andrew took a deep breath and then turned his dark blue eyes on her. "I'm not going to be a knight anymore, I messed that up." His shoulders lifted in a little shrug. "But I don't think I would have made a good knight anyway. I just don't have the right sort of…" he waved the letter about "…anything. I can't keep up with how fast everything changes or all the horrible things that happen. I can't think quickly enough and I make the wrong decisions and I feel as if I have no friends, well, maybe one, and I really don't like Highever or being a guard and I miss my family and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life." The letter dropped to his side as he ran out of breath and stopped talking.

Rather than feel overwhelmed, Leliana felt the urge to smile. She did not, of course, that would only hurt the young man sitting next to her and she would never do that. Instead she tried to remember what she had been like at nineteen. Was he still only nineteen? Quite likely he was. She had been purposeful and focused. She'd had friends, a partner and a mentor. She had many of the same skills already as she had now. But she still had been possessed of an impetuous and dramatic nature, one that made sense in certain situations and which she kept hidden in others. She guessed Andrew struggled to learn that now, how to temper his personality without losing it, how to be true to himself but still be adaptable. Tough lessons that only life could teach.

"I'm wondering if maybe I should just go home," he said quietly. Glancing up at her he elaborated. "I know I hurt my family when I ran away, and I let them down, the Kincades too, but I don't think I'm fixing anything here. If I went home, well, people would have to forget what I did eventually, and I could show them I was a good person."

"Bad people do not worry about being good, Andrew," she said softly. Aedan had said something similar to her twice now: _Evil doesn't worry about not being good_. Everyone struggled with these thoughts, at one time or another, or they should. And sometimes the question needed to be asked and answered over and over. But that was a quandary for another day. The young man before did not need a discussion in philosophy, he needed something more tangible. "Why did you run away?" she asked.


	4. Four

Andy sighed. Why had he run away, really? He'd given different people different reasons and, while they were all valid, they all skirted what felt like a sordid sort of secret. He'd left out of stupid, stubborn pride. He could feel his obstinate nature rising now, along with his shoulders as he shrugged and shook his head. Not only had he done something ill-advised and been caught, but a woman had made an utter fool out of him. In front of the Bann and his Seneschal. After the initial hurt – the realization that he meant so little to her – Andy had been mortified by the scene. Not only had Bit broken his heart, she had wounded his pride. Even nice, polite and amiable young men could object to that.

"Before I came to Denerim, I was, ah, involved with," 'involved' sounded better than 'slept with', which usually meant 'had sex with', which sounded crude, but everyone knew that's what he meant by 'involved', "the Bann's sister," he said quietly. "He found out when we returned from the city and," Andy winced, "he did not approve."

He glanced at Leliana and found himself unable to read her expression. But her clear blue eyes regarded him calmly enough, so he continued.

"I could have stayed, you know. I could have been a knight. But like a child I threw a tantrum of sorts and left. I tell people I left so that Blythe might choose a future for herself and not be stuck with a husband she did not love, and that's true, I did leave for that reason. But I also left because I was hurt and angry and ashamed. Everyone in Edgewater would have known why we were married so young and my knighthood would have been meaningless, simply a way to make me suitable." He heaved a sigh. "People tell me I did the right thing, leaving. Sometimes I understand why. I sacrificed my future for someone else's? But most of the time doesn't feel right. It feels wrong. I left out of pride, which is a sin, right? Besides that, I ruined a woman's reputation, I shamed my family and I deserted my post."

The minstrel still hadn't said anything, but he could feel her quiet attention. She made a very good listener, which he remembered from before. He supposed story tellers would naturally be careful listeners, right? So they could repeat what they heard. Of course, his story sounded like the worst kind of tale, the sort Tara might like. Rubbing the back of his neck, Andy flexed his shoulders a little and began folding his letter into a small square. As his fingers worked, he continued to talk.

"I have to go back home, I think, for Pat's wedding in the summer. But maybe I should go back before then? I don't know how to make it all alright, maybe I can't? I keep trying to do the right thing, but it's so hard," he glanced over at her again, "it shouldn't be so hard, right? I don't know how I ever thought I could be a knight." If only Bann Malone had known what uncertainty lay within, he'd never have offered to take him to Denerim, let alone make him a knight. "I'm not a very good guard. When I do what I think is the right thing, people get annoyed, and then when I do the wrong thing, people get annoyed." Heaving a heavy sigh, he slipped the tiny square back into his pocket and rested his chin on his knees again. "I want to do something great, so I can go home and maybe say, 'See, this is what I was meant for,' and then everyone will realise that..."

He chewed on his lip for a while as he contemplated the darkening ocean. Why was he telling her all of this? Surely she'd ask him to stop now or realise he'd run out of words? Her silence only seemed to prompt him further, however, and he found himself speaking again, as if he had to fill a void.

"Maybe I should just be a fisherman." Though that would preclude him ever doing anything particularly memorable, right? Unless he caught a really big fish, or saved someone important from drowning or… "I don't know what it is… that I'll do… yet. I've a feeling it won't be as a guard. I sent them my money, you know. I thought it might help for Pat's wedding and it's not like I need it." He paused, then said more quietly, "Well, I kept a bit, to get a gift for someone." He had ordered something specifically for Olivia, despite advice from Rhia. A useful and practical item he hoped to have the courage to give her some day. His shoulders slipped up and down again slightly, jostling his hands about his knees and he turned to face Leliana again, his brows drawing down, "But coin doesn't really serve as a proper apology, right? And then there's the Bann. He invested ten years in training me and I just… left. I don't quite know how to fix that one. Sometimes I think that was even worse than sleeping with his sister." He glanced over at Leliana's ever calm face. "An apology would be a start, eh?"

Leliana's silence began to bother him and he wondered if perhaps she'd become bored of his litany of complaint.

"Um…" he ventured, unsure where to go next. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

* * *

"It is not polite to interrupt a story in the telling."

Andrew blinked in surprise and Leliana smiled kindly. What a story he'd had to tell! And though he would never appreciate his own unique eloquence, just as Linette did not grasp hers, Leliana had enjoyed listening. Every story teller had a voice and the more personal it was, the better the story, in her opinion. Andrew had spoken from his heart, whether he intended to or not. She tended to think he had meant to give her that inner glimpse. That he missed his family and his confidant, his brother, Pat, was painfully obvious and he flattered her by allowing her to take that place, even for a brief time. Obviously she had made quite some impression on him in Denerim and that made her glad.

"Oh, well, I think I'm done."

He was far from done! He had not yet told her about his one 'maybe' friend and why he disliked Highever. But they would get to that.

"Would you like to hear my thoughts?"

Teeth worrying his lower lip, he considered her carefully for a time before dipping his head in a tentative nod.

"You have obviously been doing a lot of thinking." That much thinking could not be healthy for a young man, but she thought he would probably grow out of it with time, when he became more confident.

"I, er, yes." One corner of his mouth twitched. "Maybe a bit much, eh?"

Letting her smile widen, she replied, "Maybe a bit much. But we all tend to dwell upon the things that are important to us." Tilting her head, she continued. "I will not tell you that you did the right thing, hm? I will say you did a good thing." He nodded carefully. "Not for Blythe," his brows rose, "though certainly your actions benefitted her, they also served you well. You drew a line, Andrew, and you did not cross it. Though it may have felt selfish, you were true to your principles." He looked like he understood. "I agree with you, that you owe an apology to your family, face to face, for running away. Not for anything else, alright?" He looked as if he might object and so she moved on swiftly. "And you must make amends with your former lord." She used the word former, thinking the small distance would help offer the proper perspective. "Then you will feel better." It would not be as simple as that, but it could almost be, if he let it.

He scratched his jaw and looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Right."

"Do you want to be a fisherman?" she asked.

Andrew looked at her blankly for a moment and then he smiled, bit his lip and shrugged. "Maybe?" After frowning lightly, he amended his answer. "Sometimes. It would be an uncomplicated life, eh?"

"Until a storm blew your ship off course, disease swept the crew, the fish refused to run, you found a reef with the keel, pirates took off with your catch and you wandered into waters jealously guarded by a certain clan."

His brows had been rising by degrees and he looked caught between astonishment and amusement. "Um…"

"No life is uncomplicated, Andrew," she said with a smile. "And there are different sorts of complication, of course."

"Right," he answered thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip. "Hm…"

"Do you still want to be a knight?"

He flinched slightly and looked away which Leliana interpreted as a 'yes'. "No," he said, in defiance of his posture, before he relented and said, "I don't know," so softly the wind nearly carried his words away.

Leliana had told him in Denerim that he would be a wonderful knight. She still believed he would, but those were not the words he needed to hear right now. "Knights are not perfect creatures," she said instead.

"I know," he answered quickly, his tone defensive. "I know." His voice had softened again and he let out a sigh. "I don't even know why it still means something to me, after everything. Why it still seems like something I should reach for. I keep telling myself it doesn't matter, that I can be anything now, that I can make a choice." He snuck a quick glance at her before casting his gaze down towards the sand again. "I don't know why I still want it?"

"Because it is your dream."

Andrew kept his gaze forward, but she saw his shoulders hunch slightly as he tried to shrug off her words. She let him be. He would think it through and come to the right conclusion, of this she was sure. Another silence wrapped about them, broken only by the rise and fall of the ocean and the stir of the wind. Leliana listened to the music of the shore, the rhythm of it and let it lull her as she suspected it did her young companion.

After a while he turned to her and asked a new question, one she should have expected. "Did you always want to be a minstrel?"

"Not really," she answered. His eyebrows rose and Leliana continued. "But I enjoy it and cannot imagine being anything else now."

As a young girl, she'd harbored the dream of being a dancer and she had the grace for it but not the patience. For a while she thought she might want to be a musician, one who performed with others. The solitary life of a traveling minstrel had never beckoned, not until she left Val Royeaux and it had become the perfect cover. She enjoyed the life, the freedom of it, being able to rely upon a skill that did not harm, but perhaps in a sense healed. Playing her harp and singing had soothed her many times, helped her work through her troubles and thoughts, and she'd seen it in the faces of others, the unique power of music. Telling stories had always been something she enjoyed and her training as a bard had improved her technique in ways that might be hard to articulate. Sometimes telling a story was like telling a lie, and if the listener believed what you said, the story became more real to them. Even raising her voice in song could be considered a tool, one of both empowerment and distraction.

"Do you know what a bard is, Andrew?" Of course he did, this young man read books and daydreamed. He nodded to indicate that he did. "That's what I wanted to be." She'd never told anyone that before. She did not wonder why she told Andrew, if anyone would appreciate a dream, he would. She'd not really known what a bard was until Marjolaine had collected her, and then she had been exposed to a completely different world. One where people could be anything they wanted to be, all at the same time. What had attracted her most, however, was her mentor's supreme confidence.

"Really?" His eyes were wide. "That would be something, eh? Slipping unnoticed into places and wearing disguises and stealing secrets and knowing secrets!" Brows drawing downwards, he continued in a musing tone. "The Orlesians strike me as the sort who'd have a lot of secrets, right? At least, so far as I've read. The Empress Celene probably employed many bards on her way to the throne." Likely she had… "You'd get to travel too, I imagine. Peek into the affairs of foreign governments and trade. A minstrel would be a perfect disguise!"

Chuckling at both the look on his face and his conclusion, Leliana wondered why he didn't immediately assume, as many did, than a bard was merely some sort of assassin. Then his eyes narrowed and he drew in a shallow breath before asking softly, "Is… is that what you are?"

"Yes," she said simply.

How did anyone get through life with such an open face? His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened and then he seemed to work for some time at rearranging his features until finally he found an expression that resembled something halfway between respect and curiosity.


	5. Five

A bard? He knew, or course, that bards did more than spy. Sometimes they killed people too. Assassinated them, just like… Crows. He remembered the story Leliana had told him in Denerim, when she had killed someone for the first time. She had been talking of her life as a bard, he realised now. Not as a minstrel. He'd thought it odd at the time that a minstrel might be called to war, but he'd accepted it as he did most things, simply because he did not know better. Looking at the woman before him, a small part of him wondered if he should be frightened. He wasn't though; she had never threatened him in anyway. Besides, he really wasn't important enough to kill, right?

Then another realization crept upon him and he reached for one of his faces, knowing it was useless, that she'd already seen his expression. Leliana, a minstrel and a bard, visited Highever at the same time as the Warden. Holy Maker, she was one of the Companions! Which meant… she traveled with Diago.

Leliana continued to regard him somewhat frankly and he knew she somehow followed his thought processes, probably not as far as Diago, but far enough.

"You're," it hit him then, fully. This woman had been on top of Fort Drakon, with the Warden and the archdemon. How had he missed that fact last time they met? "You're Leliana," he finished, feeling sort of stupid.

"Yes, I am."

"The…" he stopped as disappointment seemed to flitter across her face.

Oh, crap, was she in disguise now? Would she kill him for recognizing her? Andy sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to scoot back across the sand. Instead, he studied her more intently. She wore leathers, a well made set from what he could tell. She had no visible weapons equipped, just a small pack at her side, her harp resting on top of it. She looked sort of like a minstrel, but now that he knew, she looked sort of like a bard as well. What had caused that fleeting look of regret? It came to him slowly… she had introduced herself as a minstrel and she had offered him simple friendship. Maybe she wondered if he would act differently, now that he knew? Maybe she liked talking about something other than the Blight and the archdemon and the Warden or poisoning and stealing and secrets and killing... He thought he understood. But, Maker, the stories she must have!

Realising he still stared Andy dropped his gaze, scratched at his jaw for a while, and tried to think of something intelligent to say. Words failed. All he could think was: _Holy Maker, I just told one of the heroes of the Siege, the Blight! all my problems, my small, somewhat embarrassing and supremely insignificant problems._ Heat swept up from his neck, his cheeks almost felt as if they might peel beneath the burn of his blush and his head even pounded lightly for a moment until the blood receded from his face, leaving him feeling somewhat lightheaded.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed, sneaking a quick look at her.

Leliana did not immediately respond and he wondered if she waited for him to elaborate. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she replied.

"Do not be. I was happy to simply be a friend for a while."

Did she mean they could not be friends anymore? Andy felt the corners of his mouth dropping and a small voice inside admonished him: Of course she was not his friend, she was Leliana, someone important. He felt the blush starting again and scowled at the sand, annoyed at his youth and naiveté. Then it occurred that she meant her words differently. Maybe she didn't mean they could not be friends; she meant that she'd liked her anonymity. She liked being Leliana the minstrel, not Leliana the… bard? Companion? Hero? Maybe she liked talking to simpler folk, her very manner exuded patience and understanding. Surely if he annoyed her, she would not continue sit beside him on the sand.

Andy shivered lightly, the sand had cooled, the slight heat of the autumn afternoon dissipating as the sun moved towards the horizon. Turning towards his companion, his… friend? Andy asked, "Are you cold? I could make a fire."

Such a radiant smile lit her features that the young guard felt instantly warmed and he ducked his head to hide yet another shy smile.

"I would like that," she replied.

* * *

Leliana got to her feet and helped the young guard gather all manner of wood. Some rested lightly in her hand, driftwood, branches that might have traveled the ocean currents or boards that had detached themselves from the wreckage of ships, limbs and roots that dropped from the cliff and the forest lining the upper rim, and the occasional log and large stump that defied its place altogether, resting heavily in the sand as if it had always been there. Together they piled the wood in place, setting some aside, and he produced a flint from his pouch and struck a spark. Soon enough they had a cheery blaze and he seemed as grateful for the warmth as she.

She sensed he'd also welcomed the distraction of activity. She had watched him carefully as he figured out just exactly who he was. He'd looked much like a rabbit caught in a snare for some time and her stomach had dropped. Andrew provided such restful company and respite from her own problems and the fact that he'd taken her at face value had been extremely refreshing.

But he recovered and his simple offer, that of a fire, had warmed her heart.

Now he sat his customary distance from her and gazed into the flames. Every now and then she'd feel his gaze rest upon her for a brief moment, not heavily, but full of questions. She could guess most of them probably. He'd want to hear stories, no doubt, of her deeds – either during the Blight or as a bard. Or perhaps he'd like to hear about the other Companions. Either request she'd happily oblige. She had introduced herself as a minstrel after all, and she did live as one, think of herself as one, most of the time.

Finally, he seemed ready to make his request and Leliana nearly held her breath as she watched him think over his words.

"Thank you for listening to me, Leliana. You know, about… everything." He chewed on one corner of this lower lip a moment, hesitating, and then continued. "Um… if you wanted to, ah, well, I'm sure you can handle your own problems and the like. But… I can listen too, if you like. As a friend." The expected blush coloured his cheeks and his blue eyes flicked away briefly. But when he returned is attention to her, he seemed more somber. "I suppose you came here for much the same reason I did, right? To think some things through?"

Leliana did not often experience surprise, but as the flare of it faded, she realised she should not have been taken aback by his offer, she should have expected it. Though she did not know him well, it suited what she did know, imminently. But would he understand anything she told him? Surely he'd be horrified by her tale, her actions, her predicament? He had such innocence about him and though he had some maturing to do, she hoped he retained his unbiased view of the world. That he continued to think about things and read his books. Surely he would think she told him a story instead?

The bard would never know what possessed her to begin telling the young guard what troubled her. Perhaps it was simply that he'd offered and to turn him down would be to spurn an act of grace.

"I stole something," she began. "Something very valuable. Bards do that on occasion."

He did not look surprised, merely interested, and so she continued.

"When I found the object I had been contracted to steal, I discovered a scroll with it that described its purpose. The device, while quite decorative – it could be mistaken for a mere ornament or artifact – actually enables the holder to influence others."

His eyes widened and his entire countenance asked his question: 'How?'

"It works on emotions. I could use it to make someone love me, perhaps." The combination of fright and intrigue on his face nearly had her smiling. "Or someone to hate me. There would be more subtle ways to use it. I could make someone simply like me, or trust me."

"It sounds amazing!"

Leliana smiled. "Yes, it does, does it not? But imagine, Andrew, what someone in a position of power might achieve through the use of such an artifact."

Andrew nodded immediately, brows drawn together in understanding. "It could be quite the dreadful tool."

"Yes. I could. And so I decided to bury it rather than turn it over to my client."

He gasped.

"I left a replica in its place, and told my client that another had stolen it before I had arrived. What I did not know was that another had in fact been hired to steal it, and that he discovered the replica was just that, a fake."

"Wow! Did they come after you?"

"Yes."

He stared at her for quiet moment before asking, "They are still after you, aren't they?"

"Yes."


	6. Six

It sounded like an adventure story. Andy could not believe it was true. But Leliana would not tell him a mere tale. Maybe he was stupid to believe that, but he couldn't think of a good reason for her to lie to him. She had stolen this artifact and hidden it and now people hunted her for it. No wonder she'd come to his quiet cove, his thinking spot. A weight as heavy as that must be difficult to bear.

The choice Leliana had made intrigued him. While doing something obviously wrong, stealing something, she had decided to do something very right, in his opinion. Was this the task Diago supposedly helped her with? The second chance Linette had told him about?

"What will you do?" he asked. It did not occur to him that he should not ask. She had begun the story, right?

"I will go to where I hid it, retrieve it, and make sure it is destroyed. This time I will finish the job properly."

"Do you think that will stop them from hunting you? If this thing is… gone?"

"Probably not."

She looked sad and he thought he understood. "They might seek vengeance against you?" he asked quietly, wondering if he'd overstepped, entered the realm of fiction.

"They might. I have made a lot of people very angry, perhaps understandably so. Even if I were to simply hand this artifact over to one of them, I doubt it would ensure my safety. It is best I try to destroy it, yes? While I still can."

"Oh, yes, definitely," he agreed, nodding vigorously. She was so brave! "I think you are doing a good thing."

Her smile looked very sad and Andy took it as slightly patronizing. He felt his cheeks warm slightly, but the sun had dipped halfway below the horizon now, colouring the sea a dusky orange, and the light of the fire lent a rosy glow to both their complexions.

"It might be too little, too late."

"Is that why you are so sad?"

Leliana looked caught for a moment, her expression so much like one that might cross his own face, and he marveled at it. Bards were supposed to be wearers of masks, right? Masters of disguise. But despite her many smiles he'd seen the sadness. When he'd first climbed about the rocks, he thought he'd seen the sheen of tears on her cheeks.

Andy thought she might look away, he might have, given the question and his own awkwardness, but she did not. Instead she seemed to let all pretense fall aside and he found himself sitting next to another person, one he felt an instant kinship with. She looked almost lost, vulnerable, and as if she carried the weight of Thedas on her shoulders. So, even important people who had done great things questioned their actions. He'd heard the Warden do it, and now Leliana did it as well. It made them both seem very human.

"Because of my actions, people have died, Andrew. It is a heavy burden to bear."

Andy did not know what to say. He liked Leliana, she seemed such a peaceful and gentle soul and he did not want to think of people dying as a result of something she had done. He could take it out of context maybe. As companion to the Warden she had probably killed many people, and even he knew that innocent people died in war and not always as a result of enemy fire. Had she been in the Brecilian Forest with the Warden? As a bard she must have killed people. But he supposed all of these things were different from someone dying because she had been trying to do something right. What could he say to ease the mind of someone like her?

"You can only try to make it right again, eh?" He scratched as his jaw and frowned in thought. "Think of what might have happened had you not hidden this thing. I mean, nothing can bring these people back, but if someone really terrible used this power, I'm sure more people would suffer. And they'd not be remorseful or try to put it right. They wouldn't care at all, likely. Because," he paused, trying to remember her words, "bad people don't worry about being good."

* * *

_You can only try to make it right again_. Was it really as simple as that? Yes. It should be, because otherwise you could waste the rest of your life in recrimination and that led to bitterness and loss of joy. He was right, nothing could restore the lives lost, but she could prevent further deaths, perhaps. Could she take small comfort from the fact Oriphiel yet lived? If rescuing her had not driven a wedge between her and Zevran, she might. There again, she could only try to make it right again. There were many pithy sentiments which essentially communicated the same idea, but really what it all meant was that one could not go back, only forward.

Leliana still could not quite understand what had possessed her to unburden herself, but she had. The words were out there and she could not take them back. She had needed to say them, she realised, and perhaps he had been the best audience. Someone disconnected with her, someone sweet and innocent, who did not regard Thedas through a haze of cynicism. Did she feel better about her plight? No, not really. But she did feel lighter, simply because he listened without judgment. He sat there and chewed on his lip, that poor lip, and listened. And then he had tried to advise her, a nineteen year old boy. Rather than feel offended, she felt appreciative.

He had dropped his gaze to the sand between his boots.

"You can only try to make it right again," she repeated quietly. He looked up and she smiled at him, eliciting a small smile in return.

"Ah, that sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sorry."

"No, it is very good advice. Thank you for listening, Andrew."

Rubbing at the back of his neck he nodded and said, "The Maker says we should share our burdens, right?"

Her smile widened, he had remembered. She had told him the very same thing at the palace. "Sharing them with a friend does make them lighter. You are a good friend, Andrew. I have too few."

"I'd have thought you had many friends, Leliana."

"I know a lot of people, but that is different, yes? I count very few as actual friends. I have another who listens to me," Zevran, "but we…" she should stop telling this young man her troubles, "…we have had a disagreement of sorts. But I am confident we will work it out." They had three days on a ship together; they would talk about what happened in the alienage. She hoped Zevran would talk to her about other things as well. She owed him such a debt of gratitude.

"I hope you work it out, with your friend," Andrew offered quietly. "I suppose it would be hard to stay in touch with people as you travel?"

"There is that." She smiled. "And of course, my former profession," again she used the word 'former', hoping he would take the hint, "did not exactly invite close relationships. A bard has many, many acquaintances and very few true friends. Oddly, a minstrel can be somewhat the same."

"Because people listen to your stories and see you only for that? Not the person underneath?"

Leliana thought of the friendships she had formed in Denerim, Jeremie and Kayt. Jeremie was a delight. She found the young nobleman utterly endearing in his attitude and verve for life. Andrew reminded her somewhat of the Orlesian, except for the lack of fine dress. Jeremie would rather submit to torture than go about with his hair so practically short and his clothes merely serviceable and somewhat old, worn and plain. But both men had impeccable manners, a keen interest in others and a youthful outlook she admired. She remembered Jeremie's reaction to discovering she had been a bard. He had looked much the same as Andrew, caught, slightly terrified and over-awed. Both had recovered admirably, however. Jeremie in a manner uniquely his: utter joy and delight at knowing someone so intriguing. Andrew in a manner equally suited: by reaffirming his offer of friendship.

Kayt sat at the other end of the spectrum. They had bonded over their similarities – the hunt, their enjoyment of their skill with the bow and a seemingly mutual respect for the other's more specialized talents. _I should tell Andrew the story of the bear_. And then they had bonded as women, in a way Leliana treasured. It had been a very long time since she'd had a female friend, someone she could properly confide in, tell the things that Zevran might mock or Jeremie would not understand. Kayt reminded her somewhat of Livie, not in manner, of course, but in her willingness to submit to frivolity in order to please a friend. The fact that Kayt had enjoyed shopping and socializing and had gained something from it, a new perspective on herself, made Leliana very happy.

Turning to Andrew, she answered his comment. "Yes, just that. Most people are interested in the story, not the teller."

"Well, if it's not too forward of me to say, I'm happy to be your friend, Leliana. And not just because you tell wonderful stories or sing well."

"Thank you, Andrew." He was a sweet young man, entirely too earnest. "We will be good friends, meeting in odd places!" She chuckled and he joined her.

Holding out her hands towards the flames, she warmed them, then clasped her fingers together, letting her hands drop to her lap once more. "Will you tell me of your one 'maybe' friend? Is that why you do not like Highever? Is it so different from Edgewater?" _Settling in somewhere new can be difficult_.


	7. Seven

Andy let out a breath, not really a sigh, more a relaxing exhalation. The fire had been a good idea, he decided. Not only did it keep off the chill of early evening, but it gave him somewhere to rest his eyes. He considered Leliana's question and his feelings towards Highever. He didn't hate it, it just wasn't home. The fact that he'd had a hard time making friends just added to his misery, he supposed.

"In Edgewater I knew everyone forever, it seems. Here… it's just different. I'm getting used to it, sort of. I do have a couple of friends. My partner, Aerion? He's a good man. He's fairly new to the guard as well." It was tempting to tell Leliana about Aerion's true nature. If anyone would appreciate the story, she would. But he had no way of knowing if she'd been with the Warden in the Brecilian Forest, he only assumed she might have been. And he'd given his word to the tall warrior. That still meant something to him, despite the perceived stain on his honor. "I've not seen him the past two days though." Not since the match with the Warden.

And there was Olivia. He felt the blush coming and hoped that the warm firelight hid it. "I have another friend, Olivia. She's a mage." He turned to look at Leliana. "Do you know many mages?"

"I do! I had a friend in Val Royeaux who was a mage and I travelled with another pair during the Blight. One was a shape shifter; she could become all manner of creatures. They are interesting people, are they not? They train about as long as you might have, for their profession."

A shape shifter! Andy had only read about those. Of course, if anyone met such a mage in real life, it would be Leliana. "You have met many interesting people, haven't you?"

She grinned. "I have."

He wanted to ask her to tell him about them, all of them, but held back. Leliana told stories for a living, she wanted to relax now, he felt sure of it. He had become aware of the fact she enjoyed being simply Leliana in his company, neither minstrel nor bard. Maybe he could tell her a story? As soon as the thought occurred, he mentally flicked it away. She told stories for a living; nothing he could tell her would capture her interest or hold her attention, not with his awkward manner and hesitant voice. Well, maybe there was one story he could tell her. It did not involve a hero, or a villain, but he thought it would make her smile.

"I think you will like story of how I met Olivia," he ventured.

Leliana gave him a certain sort of look and he knew, just knew, what she intended it to say. Her smile said it for her, 'This mage is someone important to you.' What she said out loud was, "I would love to hear it."

"Well, I tripped over her in the market place. She's tiny, maybe a foot shorter than I am, and I was distracted, of course! Actually, I was looking for embroidery thread, for my mother, I don't sew." He glanced at the hands he considered clumsy and smiled wistfully at them. "The colours are quite something, right? The stall has them arranged like a rainbow, only with all the shades of the colours? Anyway, it catches the eye. Next thing I knew I was falling, and then I hit my head, I can be very awkward at times, and then I was lying on my back staring up at the sky. It was pretty embarrassing, I suppose. I did not feel well at all, a knock to the head will do that, eh? And she was right there, all concerned, even though I'd knocked her down and," he bit his lip over his grin, "ripped her robe. Not anywhere indecent," he held up a hand, "across the knees. She fixed it right there, with a needle and thread, not magic. I asked about that, if she had a spell. She used magic to heal my head though, and she was very gentle and kind and put me right at ease." He paused. "We got to talking and you know when you just feel comfortable with someone? It was like that. Despite the fact she's lived in the Tower for so long, we have a lot in common. That was nice, considering all the different kinds of people I've met since leaving Edgewater. She invited me to the Satinalia feast and I took her to town afterwards. It was the best night I've had in a long, long time," he finished with a smile.

Leliana was smiling like she'd really enjoyed his little story and Andy grinned in return, happy in his thoughts and her company.

"What does she look like, Olivia?" Leliana asked.

"Oh, she has green eyes, a grey or brown sort of green, like olives, and brown hair that always seems to pull free of her combs and braids. It's sort of wavy?" How did one describe hair? "And she has a really nice smile and freckles on her nose…" Andy trailed off, noticing the look on Leliana's face and he looked away and smiled at the fire.

"So she is pretty then?"

"Yes," he answered, still looking at the fire, still smiling. Trying to wrestle his face into something less silly, he glanced at her and guessed why she had asked what Olivia had looked like. It was her way of teasing him, gently. Thinking to play her game, he said, "I could tell you how Aerion looks."

"Is he pretty?"

He laughed! "No! Ah, well. I don't know. Men aren't pretty… they are handsome, right? He might be, I'm no judge of that…" he stopped talking again, realising he was only going to sound more ridiculous the longer he continued. He could not match wits with a bard!

Leliana continued to chuckle softly, then she said, "So I think you would like to be more than friends with Olivia, yes?"

Andy smiled and for some reason did not blush. Instead he said, "Yes." Then he frowned. "Does that seem odd, after what I told you before? About Blythe?"

This was something he'd thought about, been concerned about. How he could be interested in someone so soon after feeling so devastated? Did it make him shallow or callous? But from the moment he'd met Olivia, he'd liked her. Truthfully, he was afraid of 'like' becoming something more, but refused to let one bad experience overshadow the rest of his life. He would take things slowly, this time, and not leap into anything neither of them were ready or prepared for. Looking up at Leliana he realised she waited for him to sort his thoughts before giving her answer. She made a patient listener, not unlike his brother, and Andy realised that he'd delved into the sort of conversation he might have shared with Pat. He wasn't embarrassed to admit things to her, he realised, and it came as a great relief to have someone to confide in again.

"Not at all," she finally answered, much to his relief. "Resilience is something you will come to appreciate, Andrew." A slightly wistful look entered her eyes and Andy suspected she had had her heart broken, in the past, and had maybe not recovered as swiftly as he had. He wasn't naïve enough to think the matter of Blythe was firmly behind him, but he had a willingness to move forward. Had Leliana moved forward?

It was on the tip of his tongue then, to ask if she had someone she liked, 'someone special', just as he'd been asked, over and over, since leaving Edgewater. The question had surprised and consternated him the first few times, but now he realised that the rest of Thedas did not operate like a small village. People did not know everyone else's business and who liked who and so on. Leliana answered the question before he asked it, however.

* * *

"A mended heart can be a fragile thing," Leliana mused quietly.

Andrew looked a little uncomfortable, as if bracing for something, and she suppressed the urge to giggle. Otherwise, he appeared attendant and ready to lend his ear again, should she require it. Rather than tell him the terrible story of her betrayal by Marjolaine, however, she decided to dispense advice that both of them should follow.

"Our lives are too short to be miserable and too long to remain alone. Next time we meet, Andrew, I will tell you of the one I hope to know better, hm? I will describe their looks for you and you can ask me if they are handsome or pretty and advise me in my course."

Leliana had someone in mind and she could describe their features now, if pressed, but doing so would be to admit to something she was not quite ready for and in front of a solemn witness. She would wait until her quest was complete and the orb destroyed and then she would tend to her heart, properly, as she should have done before.

The young man nodded carefully, as if he'd been charged with a special task and Leliana smiled at him.

"I hope they make you happy," he ventured quietly.

"I am happy, Andrew. One's happiness should not depend on another. The person you like best should always be yourself and the person you want to please most should be the same." Tilting her head, she continued. "Of course, that does not give you license to become completely selfish, but I do not think either of us is in danger of that."

His frown softened into a grin and he nodded. "Because we are good people?"

"Something like that." Relaxing her posture somewhat, Leliana turned the conversation back to him, feeling he had more yet to share. "So your maybe one friend has turned into two, do you have any more maybe friends in Highever?"

His eyes clouded in the manner she had become used to and his gaze returned to the fire briefly. Here it was, she realised, the reason he did not like Highever.

"There is Linette," he named her quietly and Leliana successfully hid her surprise. She could not picture the wily scout and quiet guard as friends. They were about the same age but had absolutely nothing else in common. He continued somewhat morosely with, "… or was."

Andrew took a breath, held it, and then continued. "I had a… disagreement with her a few days ago. It was really strange; I've not really been in a situation like that before." A puzzled look entered his eyes. "I acted badly, I pushed her. She didn't fall down, but she made me so mad. Which is something else I' not used to. I'm usually pretty even tempered, eh?" He looked at her cautiously, and then said, "You might know her, she's, ah, Diago's girlfriend. Diago is travelling with you, right?"

The young guard was not the only one who looked puzzled. He'd pushed someone? Certainly, Linette struck her as the sort of person to provoke antagonism, but from the mild mannered man in front of her? Also, she found the assumption that Diago traveled with her troubling. They had made no secret of their association, but given the events of the previous day she had to wonder if that had been a mistake.

"Yes, Diago travels with me. What did you disagree with Linette over?"

A heavy sigh left his lips and he studied the sand between his boots for so long she thought he might not tell her. His fingers plucked at the sand, picking it up and letting it drop in a slow fall into small peaks. Finally his gaze flicked sideways towards her and he said, "A bard can be like an assassin, right?

She nodded carefully and wondered how he had discovered Diago's profession.

"That's what Diago is, an assassin. I suppose you knew that already... Do you remember the story I told you in Denerim? Where my skull was cracked?" he asked and Leliana nodded. "Diago did that. He tried to kill me and Bann Malone, twice."

Maker's breath! The coincidence of his story struck her solidly and Leliana did not try to hide her surprise. Diago had had a purpose in Denerim after all. She knew not the politics surrounding the attempt on Bann Kincade's life, but someone had obviously wanted him very dead. Crows did not work for a pittance. Of course, Diago had no longer been a Crow at that point, but he would still have a reputation to sell. Quickly, she connected the dots. Andrew had seen Linette and Diago together, someone he considered a friend with someone he considered an enemy…

"She knew!" Andrew said. "She told me his name was Alejandro, but she knew who he was and what he'd done, way back when she met me, on the road to Highever." He flung up a hand. "Weeks ago." When he looked at her, he looked hurt, vulnerable. "Why is it so easy to make a fool of me? I know I'm not stupid, but to find out over and over how gullible I am sucks, it really does. That's one of her words, eh? Sucks? It's a good one," he grumbled grudgingly. "What I don't understand, well maybe I do? Is why she told me? Did she think I'd see them out together and try to save her from the terrible assassin?" His expression clearly said that is exactly what he'd thought Linette hoped to avoid and he looked faintly embarrassed by the fact. Anger also sparked in his eyes, however, making them darker than they might seem otherwise. Leliana wondered at the anger. Was it because he felt he'd been fooled, or because some who had tried to kill him and his lord still walked free? She suspected it was a combination of the two.

"She said she told me because we were friends and she trusted me, right? And then she asked me not to turn him in. A killer, knowing I would want to." He gnawed on his lip, then let it go with a puff of breath.

"Is that why you did not report him to your captain?" Leliana asked quietly, knowing he had not, for Diago still walked free, but wondering why he hadn't. That the liberty of one of her companions had rested in this man's hands worried her. Andrew had a strong sense of honor and justice and seemed to have clearly defined right and wrong for himself. What had deterred him from his course?

"I think she's in love with him." The young man sighed heavily again and scratched at his jaw for a while before turning to face her. "Linette said he had an important task to do, with you, and that this would be like a second chance for him, that he wasn't an assassin anymore. I didn't know if that was true, but after hearing your story, I suppose it might be."

"He is honoring the debt of another, to me, in order to help me. Not everyone would do such a thing and I have seen Diago act in ways even you might consider good."

Andrew frowned at her. "You have?"

"When I met him he faced down a qunari warrior in order to save a child."

The young man blinked in surprise. "Oh. Well, I, er, went to talk to him? He wasn't at all like I expected, but that… wow." He eyed her curiously. "But I suppose you've, um, killed," he nearly whispered the word 'killed', "people, right? As a bard?" He looked so confused. "But you seem like such a good person."

"People are not all or all bad. We are not books, Andrew. There is more than one kind of story inside all of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and his anger seemed to have faded.

"Well, I didn't report him. Made me feel like the worst sort of person, eh? But I couldn't, for Linette." He said quietly. "So she wouldn't have to rot in a dungeon just because she has odd taste in men..." He looked up, "…and because she's my friend, even though we're not really speaking right now. But that's important, right? Honoring friendships?"

"Yes, it is."

"I read a lot, you know," he ventured quietly. "You'd think I'd have realised by now that the world is not a simple place, eh?"

"Well, maybe for some people it is."

"I think some people want it to be simple and so they ignore what is around them. And then it all comes as a big surprise and they are unprepared for it. I suppose some folks, like that, can grow up in one place and live out their lives with very little excitement, and never realise how big the world is and how complex people really are." He was talking about himself, obviously, and Leliana let him continue, interested to hear what he would conclude. "And some folks are just unsurprised by life. Take my brother Pat, for instance. I think you could tell him your story and he'd not blink. He would just tell you to go on and fix it and tell him if you needed a hand. He doesn't even…" he looked up. "I read too much, don't I?"

"No. But perhaps you could stand to spend a little more time in Thedas."

"That's what Pat says!"

Leliana chuckled. "He sounds a very smart man."

"He is."

"You miss him very much, your brother."

"I do." He sounded rather melancholy and Leliana felt unusually awkward.

"Why don't you read your letter, I will get some more wood."

Nodding, Andrew pulled the tiny square of paper from his pocket and studied it carefully. Then he opened it and she stood, brushed off her leathers, and walked away from the circle of light surrounding the fire. They did not really need any more wood, an ample stack sat near enough to their fire, but she wanted to give him the space he craved, the quiet he'd come to the beach for.

Leliana wandered towards the end of the cove, shivering as the breeze wrapped about her legs, the air cooler away from the fire, darker. She paced across the sand, directing her gaze out towards the sea. She could no longer see the horizon, the distance that beckoned. The dark water just got darker before it disappeared into a nothingness yet to be lit by stars. Even the slender disc of the visible moon failed to discern the line where the sea met the sky and for this she felt oddly grateful. Nothing called to her, no far off land, not greater adventure, no exotic sights or new stories. For tonight this beach would be her home, and a comfortable one. She had a place here and a friend, someone willing to listen if she wanted to talk or to just sit by her side if she did not. She almost felt she belonged.

Glancing over at the young man as he peered at her letter, she thanked the Maker for what he probably cursed. His niceness. Simply nice people were few and far between and it had been a long time since she had been able to truly be herself in front of another. Just Leliana, neither a minstrel nor a bard, but herself. Oddly, she had not been afraid of his opinion and had trusted him to listen as he'd offered. She wished she had been happier when he'd found her, but life did not always work that way. Perhaps next time they met, they would have only good stories to share. She smiled in anticipation and turned back towards the ocean.


	8. Eight

Andy looked up from his letter and saw Leliana standing at the far end of the cove. She seemed to be watching the ocean and so he watched her for a while, intrigued by her duality. She was a good person; he strongly believed that, despite knowing what she had likely done in the past. Had she always been good? That, he could not answer. _No one is all good, or all bad_, she had told him. Even assassins like Diago had decency within them and deserved a second chance. His thoughts did not make him feel better about letting Diago walk free, but it helped to clarify his purpose. The tall Antivan deserved this chance to help Leliana just as much as he deserved a chance to make his own amends.

He looked back down at the letter and read it again. They loved him. Why had he thought they might not? They missed him. He missed them too, horribly. Their prayers were with him, as his were with them. They – and this part had him blinking back tears – they trusted him to do what was right and good, for himself and others. Tara and Katy had both added short paragraphs, in their own hand, each of them wishing him all the best. Pat had written the rest, but had indicated parts dictated by his mother and father. They urged him to come home, to visit, if he could. He would always be welcome, he would always be loved.

The scuff of her boot alerted him to her return, and Andy looked up from the letter, then folded it and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Ah, thank you, for that. You didn't have to go, you know."

Sinking gracefully back towards the sand, she reached towards the stack of wood and tossed another on to the flames. "I should be thanking you, Andrew, for sharing your quiet place with me."

Grinning, he dropped his head a little, nodding a couple of times. "I call it my thinking spot."

"And everyone needs a place like that."

He was sort of surprised she didn't ask about his letter, but supposed it held nothing of interest to her. Maybe she just respected his privacy. Either way, he was glad to let it go. He could read it over and over, when he needed to connect with his family, and it reminded him that he had a letter of his own to write – several, in fact. He owed Ser Rhiannon an apology, his family a thank you, and he probably owed Bann Malone some words too. That letter would take more than a few visits to this beach to plot out, he reckoned.

"Do you like to sing?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Um… well, yes? Sort of?" He didn't mind it and his sisters never objected when he joined them, though he usually preferred to dance.

"Will you sing with me? Tell me what sort of songs you like."

So he did, and they sang. He felt a bit shy at first, but the minstrel made no comments on his talent or lack thereof, she played her harp and encouraged him to clap his hands to keep the beat as she led him through different verses of songs he thought he knew. He enjoyed himself, immensely, and felt his troubles rolling off his shoulders as they worked their way towards the more ridiculous sorts of songs. A glance at the minstrel showed the same happy smile and the same brightness of eye.

When she put her harp aside, not trace of light remained in the sky and their fire had burned down to a rosy glow. Hunger curled in his gut and Andy wondered if he'd missed dinner.

"You have done the people of Highever a great service tonight, Andrew."

"I have?"

"I had planned to sing my troubles to them. I do that, on occasion, when my mood is melancholy. I have had sailors crying in their ale before."

He laughed!

"But tonight I had a friend to listen to me instead."

Andy smiled and nodded. "So did I."

Standing up, Andy brushed off his pants and then kicked more sand over their fire, smothering the coals. Likely nothing much would burn down here, but it only took a gust of wind to carry a spark above the cliff line and explaining a forest fire to the Teyrn, well… his life felt just about complicated enough right now.

Then he did the gentlemanly thing and offered to walk her back to town. She accepted, of course, and he escorted back along the beach, through the town and to the Resting Laurels.

"So where shall we meet next, do you think?" she asked when they paused outside the inn.

His serious face failed him utterly and he chuckled. "I have no idea. We'll have to leave that one to fate. But," he gave her a cheeky grin, "If I do make it to the Anderfels, I will look for you."

"I will be there."

He really believed she would be, as weird as that sounded.

"Good night, Leliana." He gave her a small bow.

"Good night, Andrew."

He was tempted to ask her to call him Andy, as his friends did, but he refrained. He liked the way she said Andrew and it made him feel sort of… grown up.


End file.
